Our Dearly Departed Bras

Dearest friends and family, 

We gather here today in memory of the dearly beloved clothes and lingerie that have left us all too soon. It was a great tragedy that I moved into a house in Lake Forest, California and stumbled across a most evil and wicked clothes dryer that obliterated these pure, loving souls long before they were meant to go. Not that clothing really has a soul. But you know what I mean. The point is we are sad. Because I said so. 

They told me I should not have put my bras in the dryer. Didn't I know?? Wasn't I taught?? No! Home-Ec is considered outdated and politically incorrect in our public schools! I was taught to do my laundry long before I had bras to worry about and thus never learned. Besides, no dryer had ever harmed my precious bras and jackets in such a way before. This dryer was malicious. This dryer was cold. Metaphorically, anyway. If it was actually cold it would not have actually dried my clothes. Which it did. Most of the time. When it wasn't MAIMING THEM.

I am removed now from the presence of this dark dryer and contemplate the lives which it took from me and look now upon my greatly reduced underwear collection. (I did not have much to start with, ok?) And so I must host this memorial, as it is the most I could ever do for those who did so much for me. Join me in remembering the beauty of these bras and jacket, and the tragedy that is truly our great loss. 

 

Our dearest blue kind-of-weirdly-lacy-but-not bra, 

You were purchased for $10 (plus tax) in Wal-Mart, which I never even would have gone to if it hadn't been for my Austrailian co-workers who were so fascinated with the place in the summer of 2011. Or was it before then? Was it in early 2010 when I was attempting to put together a dinosaur costume for the Sadie Hawkins dance senior year, which I never even attended but instead that evening watched half of Paranormal Activity at my friend Emily's house and then went to a random house party to get drunk? I can't remember anymore. In any case, when I saw you hanging on the rack, so cute and so affordably priced, I knew it was love at first sight. You were different then my other bras. You stood out. No, literally, because when I started exercising a lot, my boobs got smaller and your cups became too big. But I wore you nonetheless, because you made me feel fancy and girly, even if you were like a cave on my chest. You weren't even that large, just a simple 36A, but your unique shape was so wrong for me. But so, so right. 

I'll never forget you, blue kind-of-weirdly-lacy-but-not bra. You were getting old even when your time came. One of your metal hooks was already screwed up, so when it was your end I was not surprised. But I still mourned. Never again would I feel your ill-fitting cups caress me (not that I did much before). Never again would your black and blue stitching peek above my slightly lower cut shirts. Never again would I let your loose straps fall off my shoulders in the most awkward of moments. 

You were a good bra. Rest in peace. 

Sweet, loving strapless black bra, 

You always had my back. And my boobs. I picked you up in Kohl's when I was only 15 years old, knowing that you were soon to be an important asset to my womanhood. While we only saw each other occasionally, whenever I needed a friend to come to my aide in times of formal parties with strapless or off the shoulder dresses, you were there for me. I'll never forget how loyal you were to me. From homecoming dances to fancy garden parties, you always were such a faithful bra. And you never let me or my breasts down. You held fast to your duties, a sturdy bra through and through!

And look what horrors fell upon you! Your strap, ripped clean in half at the most random of places. I found the small end in my pile of laundry and was so confused until I finally came across your scorned body and wept. How could such a thing happen! How could a dryer do this to you! No really--how? How the fuck did that happen?  I am confused. 

Gone, but not forgotten. 

Especially now that I don't have a strapless bra and will probably eventually need one again for some reason. 

Oh! The black bra that hooked in the front! 

Your life was ended all too quickly!

I had only just purchased you at the end of last summer with part of my day camp paycheck. You were on the clearance rack in Target and I scooped you up along with several others and took you into my arms-- and chest. For a pretty reasonable price, I may add. You were a little small and cut into my ribs and armpits a bit harshly, but you held steady and strong. Plus it was worth the $3.50. And you were such a cute addition when paired with my way-too-big red bra during GoGo auditions and pole performances, making my boobs look ever so slightly larger.
How dare the world take you from me. How dare the dryer rip your clasp off and wrench your underwire almost magically out of you. I can't even figure out how it came out. It just did. And it was unfair.

Our love was so brief, but beautiful.

"Your end, which is endless, is as a snowflake dissolving in the pure air." 
-Buddhist Saying 

(It's ok. We don't get the quote either. Just go with it.)

Alas, poor paisley Onzie sports bra, 

I think I mourned you most of all. I had only just received you from Boulder Body Wear as a Christmas present in late 2012. I was so thrilled to have an exciting, colorful bra to dance in. You made me more beautiful than I could have dreamed as I swam on the floor and flew through the air. I felt like a legit fancy pole dancer with you around me. So simple, but so beautiful. You were truly an elegant sports bra. 

What a tragedy that you, too, befell the horrors of the wicked dryer. I found you, caught at the top of the door and wrenched you from the crack between the barrel of the dryer and its face, only to find you mangled and destroyed, your strap was in the most irreparable state. Oh how my soul wept in that moment. You were so fancy and expensive, and your print was no longer available for purchase! I would never have you again, especially not while I was unemployed. It was a dark, dark day when you left me. 

Lord, carry me through a life without you, for I am unsure of how I can go on. 

And you. My beloved sporty jacket. 

What became of you was so terrible. While you were not rendered fully destroyed, you were maimed and handicapped in a way that we both knew things would never be the same again. For how could I have known! You were just a simple jacket! Simple sleeves, simple pockets, simple zippers. When I first received you, also in Christmastime of 2012, I thought you were so delicate and fragile. You were from a fancy store on the 29th Street Mall, where everything is priced for middle aged white yuppies, and I knew in my heart you were too good for me. I was afraid to wash you for the longest time, but considering I did work out with you on, I kind of had to. 

Why did it have to be you? You were one of the most expensive jackets I owned! One of the newest! One of the most well made! You had cool designs and reflective thingys like I was headed for outer space with hot astronaut dudes! You had these really cool things I could put my hands in if they got cold, but I could still use my fingers. You made me feel cool, sporty jacket. You made me feel sporty, sport jacket.  You were super comfy and warm, but still light-weight. You were everything my heart ever wanted. 

Until the dryer came. 

And it ate your zipper. Ripped it right off. The remains were nowhere to be found. I would never zip you up again, sporty jacket. You would never be any good at what you were intended for again, just like a true athlete who gets a life changing injury and has to go back to normal school and become an accountant or something lame. It was the worst kind of irony. 

I still have you. I still occasionally wear you. But it is not the same. It never will be. And we both are forever broken by it. 

Why, why must the world be so cruel? 

I will always love you. 

...

Laundry will never be the same for me again. 

"The song is ended, but the melody lingers on." 

-Irving Berlin.